Aero
by Angora
Summary: Hey, you really shouldn't bother...
1. Meet Aero

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters seen in my story, with the exception of Aero, Raine, Iron, and Clique. .......Matrix Movie and its characters are the property of The Wachoskis and Warner Bros. No infringement is intended, and the author is making no money off of this story. Please don't sue a poor gal!  
  
Aero's Story  
  
Okay, so I'll be the first one to admit it. I thought that they were out of their minds when they approached me in the library that day. I mean, what reasonable girl is going to just smile and nod when a mammoth body- builder type and a little wisp of a woman in black leather and an Oriental- looking trench coat stroll up to her terminal and start a conversation with, "We can show you the truth, if you're ready to hear it."?  
  
No, I was sure they were either insane, or some New Age religious types. Or maybe both. All I knew was that I definitely wasn't ready to hear it. My day had been going pretty strangely as it was. "Terribly sorry, but I'm a nun." Which, of course, I most certainly am not. I think that the incongruous fishnets and combat boots I had chosen to don that day probably derailed any notions that I was on sabbatical from a convent. I hoped that they would get the idea.  
  
They didn't. The woman, who had been the original speaker, just smiled sadly at me and waited silently. The hulk remained standing, looking down on me in a way that I was sure was supposed to be intimidating. I don't take intimidation very well. So I saved my data to CD, popped it out of the drive, and stood abruptly. I turned to find myself staring directly into the big guy's chest. I'm 5'9", close to six foot with those boots on, and to say that the top of my head barely reached this guy's armpit probably makes my case right there.  
  
I looked up, and met him dead in the eye. "Excuse me."  
  
He looked to the woman, who gave a slight nod. He reluctantly stepped aside, and I brushed past. The woman said softly, "We'll see you soon."  
  
I spun and met her eyes coldly. "No, you won't. Look lady, I'm not in the mood."  
  
The smile still played about her features as I went for the door. Weird as the encounter was, with the kind of day that I had been having, it really didn't bother me all that much.  
  
My day had started with my usual jog through the park, breakfast at a corner café with my laptop, and a few too many cups of coffee. The café was great; one of the first of the so-called cyber-cafés in that section of the city. Plus, they serve a great cappuccino. Halfway through my third cup, I felt that familiar urge to click the little short-cut icon that I really should have been smarter than to actually install. The little white and red emblem that, with one simple click of the mouse, takes me back to the world of computer criminals and geniuses. Of introverts and brilliance. The world that well-to-do citizens with respectable jobs aren't supposed to know or care about. The world of the hacker.  
  
So I suppose I ought to introduce myself before we get any further. My name is Marie St. Charles. I am the only child of Jacques St. Charles, a French multi-millionaire international business magnate, and his American wife, Catherine. I was born in Paris, but spent my early years traveling with my parents all over the world. I was seven when they divorced; although the marriage was over by the time I was old enough to understand the word. My mother moved back to New York, and I went with her.  
  
She died of an aneurysm while I was a sophomore undergrad, and my father followed in a car crash two years later. Not that my father's passing particularly mattered to me. It wasn't like he ever came to see us or told me he loved me. He sent the obligatory expensive presents on birthdays and Christmas, but I hadn't seen the man in over three years when he died.  
  
Oh, look at me. I'm wasting perfectly good time on something that doesn't really matter, so I'll just stop there.  
  
I have a B.S. Computer Science Degree from Columbia, as well at the M.S. and PhD that my advanced dynamic programming algorithms project helped me earn. I finished school by the time I was 23. Being a mathematical genius has its advantages.  
  
And its disadvantages. The NSA and Army Intelligence recruited me heavily during my last two years at school. Aside from my interest in algorithms, I was also excellent with AI systems. Not the AI that I now know exists, but AI as it was defined at the beginning of the third millennium. Problem reduction, means-end analysis, heuristic searching, predicate calculus, and other variables that went into building intelligent computer systems. How I wish now that those in my field had been less ambitious.  
  
I was then 26 years old, a well-paid systems analyst and integration expert for a major French corporation, and totally independent from the money inherited from my father. What funds of his I've been able to access thus far have gone to UNICEF. Chalk it up to unresolved issues with the guy. Whatever. What mattered was that I didn't work for that money; I didn't need his money, and sure as hell didn't use it to get through school or anything else.  
  
But I digress. Submerged in my all-consuming pastime, fingers flying as I accessed areas that so few of us actually even realize exist, I lost track of time. My contact was dropping even more tantalizing hints about his relationship with the hacker-god himself, Morpheus. I was getting close.  
  
When I brought the coffee to my lips a few moments later, I was shocked to realize it was stone cold. A glance at my watch told me that I was already going to be late for work. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.  
  
Hell, I was going to be very late. By the time I could get back to my apartment four blocks away, shower, and dress before biking to work, I would be nearly two hours late. Why did I have to put that damned icon on my screen? I sighed and snapped my laptop shut.  
  
So what about the fishnets, you say. No well-paid, respectable PhD would go to work wearing combat boots and fishnets in fashionable upper-crust Paris, right?  
  
Therein lied my fascination with doing the unexpected. Being the paradox. It must have been the drama queen in me that occasionally wanted to come out and play. Rather than fight it, as most grown-ups did so well, I chose to indulge it. Life's too short to deny yourself the pleasure of seeing the wealthy and elite socialites of the City of Lights shocked out of their prim social moldings enough to gape. A little sensationalist, sure; but hey, that was me.  
  
Anyway, I was going to be terribly late to work, but they wouldn't fire me for it. Not a chance--the work I was doing for them was good. Very good. They couldn't finish without me. I was the only soul who knew the system well enough to integrate the new software complex they were acquiring via merger. So, with my job safely assured, I dug out the green fishnets and beat-up combat boots that I had found so rebelliously perfect in my mid- teen years. Amazing that I hadn't lost them. More amazing that they still fit.  
  
Apparently my boss didn't appreciate my fashion statement. He was not the sort to brush off blatant provocation. I received a very long lecture on the importance of being on time, followed by an even longer one on proper workplace attire. I suffered through both without comment. In truth, I paid attention to not a word that was said. I was still mulling over the name that my contact had dropped this morning.  
  
Raine. I had been fascinated by one of the most evasively clever hackers the world had ever seen ever since I first started my...hobby. He or she or it was considered a foremost cyber terrorist, at or nearly on the same level as Morpheus, even. I personally believed that Raine was probably the more dynamic and brilliant of the two, just from some of the incredible hacks that I had been lucky enough to catch wind of. Raine just didn't receive the publicity. A good thing, for those of us in the biz. Not such a good thing for one as driven to track the hacker down as I was.  
  
It was strange. I'd known I was supposed to be looking for an elusive something for a long time. It was only once I started hearing about Raine that I realized the hacker was part of it. For several years I had tried every trick I knew to make contact. For several years I had been rebuffed without reply.  
  
Evidently, Raine had a link to Morpheus as well. All the more reason that I needed to find him. A former colleague of mine had helped me locate a link who apparently knew more than I did about both of them. When I discreetly dropped hints that I knew they were working on hacking the Matrix, my shy contact had chosen to break off. Blunt as always, I couldn't help it. Sometimes dealing with people whose entire lives are in binary code frustrates the hell outta me.  
  
As far as I could tell, despite the strangely frequency of the term in both my research and my conversations with others in my field, the Matrix was some type of massive intergovernmental project to catalog and classify every human being, every computer, security system, access code, every single bit of electronic information available on every person and thing on Earth. A sort of all-encompassing global database. It was enough to make even the most blithe programmer paranoid, which is to say that conspiracy theorists (such as I assume I must have been) made it an obsession.  
  
With my boss finally winding down, I was summarily dismissed for the day. Which was fine with me. I really had nothing important to do at the office. I decided to head for the library terminals. It never hurts to use a public IP address, right? Especially with the kind of low-tech stuff I needed to get done. Re-routing my source codes through and over hundreds of computers in multiple networks was an option, if I needed more security.  
  
I was deeply engrossed in a global news search when my search screen blacked out suddenly. I was about ready to reboot when green letters flashed onto my screen in English.  
  
'It is time, Aero.'  
  
I stared for a moment, dumbstruck. Someone had traced a trail that wasn't there. There was no way anyone could know that I was sitting at that computer unless they were in the room with me. I stood and looked around the small room. It was just two college kids and myself. Both screens were well within my view. The blonde girl with the designer handbag had a popular fashion magazine's homepage pulled up. The boy with the spiky green hair and black makeup was typing a paper on a word processor. Neither were messing with me. I blinked before setting my fingers hesitantly to the keyboard.  
  
[ WHO IS THIS?!? ]  
  
'You don't already know?' I just about jumped out of my seat. My mind froze for a second.  
  
[ Morpheus? ]  
  
'No, but you're close.'  
  
[ Jesus Christ. Raine? ]  
  
'The latter.'  
  
[ I have so many questions! ]  
  
'I have the answers you are looking for. It is time, Aero.'  
  
The screen went black again. 


	2. The Question

And then came Clique and Iron, as I sat at the terminal in shock. They were a mismatched pair. Clique, as she later introduced herself, was barely five feet tall. With her heavy clothing on, I still doubted that she even weighed ninety pounds. She looked to be about forty, but her hazel eyes appeared even older. Her short brown hair had gray streaks in it, and the frown lines around her mouth eased as she smiled at me. Clique did not possess beauty, not in the traditional sense, anyway. Her face was rather narrow and pointy, and she lacked anything resembling feminine curves. Instead, she exuded that aura of control, of comfort with herself that only comes with time and experience.  
  
The man I would soon know as Iron towered over Clique. (Well, that's probably not exactly a good comparison; he towers over everyone.) He was younger than his companion, maybe thirty or so. He had a pierced eyebrow, three silver hoops in his lower lip, and several in each ear. His hawkish features were set stonily, his bald head shining in the dimly lit computer area. I received the impression that he was ready to spring into movement at a second's notice.  
  
As a pair, they would have attracted much more attention than I did with my getup. Yet, as I looked around the nearly empty library while making my way to the door, no one seemed to notice either them or me. Weird. Still on edge from my conversation on the black screen, I slammed to a halt right as I reached the door.  
  
My stunned mind, while switching to automatic defensive mode, had not stopped to put two-and-two together. 'It's time, Aero.' I saw those green letters slowly appear across my mental screen in vivid clarity. Just a coincidence that a hacker-type and a bodyguard approach me seconds later?  
  
"Get a grip, Marie. Just slow down, and get a grip." I murmured to myself, shoving a lock of my long, black hair back behind my ear. What are the odds? This was a public place, not too many safer places, in my opinion. Could I be passing up a major opportunity? Would it really hurt to listen for a second? I could always walk out again. Or scream. All right.  
  
I about-faced and walked back to the main computer terminal area. They were still waiting for me. The woman's smile faded as I sat down a safe distance away from both of them. "Do you know why you came back? I think perhaps I can explain better than you yourself."  
  
"How did you know I spoke English?" I asked directly.  
  
The ghostly smile returned. "I know a lot about you, Aero."  
  
My face drained of blood. "How do you know that name?" I whispered.  
  
"Will you come with us to a more private area so that I may explain?"  
  
Okay. So following two strangers into a secluded area of the library wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done. Just suffice it to say I had an instinct, and I followed it. Trusting my instincts is something I've always been able to rely on.  
  
We sat amid high stacks of reference books and microfilm readers in an enclosed glass area. I rested my arms on the solid oak desk and met the woman's eyes above it. Something strange...  
  
It hit me like a blast of cold water. "You're not cops, are you? Cuz I've done nothing illegal. I'm just a programmer."  
  
She actually laughed. "Just a programmer? Hardly. But it is no matter; we are about as far from the police as you can get . We are...like you."  
  
I processed this for a moment. The implications astounded. "Raine sent you?"  
  
"Yes. It was he that located you, that watched you. He believes that you are special, the last person whom we have been waiting for. Maybe you are. His perception is greater than most. Come. We have a car outside."  
  
He. Raine was a man. I filed that information away. "Look, I've got MACE on me, just so we're clear." I didn't, but how could they know that?  
  
"You must believe this: it is we who need the protection from you." She stood.  
  
I stared at her, then the giant, incredulous. Maybe she really was crazy.  
  
A few minutes later, I was sitting in the back of a medium-sized sedan, which is to say medium-sized by Parisian standards. I was crammed into the back of the little car with the woman. The big guy was at the wheel. We were driving through evening rush hour, so it took us nearly half an hour to arrive at a very seedy looking Chinese restaurant in a darker part of town. Not a word passed between us on the drive.  
  
The trend continued once in the restaurant. We were installed into a dimly lit booth in a back corner. None of us spoke until the waiter brought us our plates of greasy chicken and overcooked vegetables. My stomach was in no condition to try to down anything solid, and apparently the big guy didn't have such a problem. It was only then that we were properly introduced. I began.  
  
"Since you already know so much about me, why don't you tell me who you are and what this is all about? I've had a hell of a day."  
  
The woman smiled that sad smile of hers. "I am Clique, and this is Iron."  
  
I looked down at my folded hands for a moment. Clique. Another name that had come up in my searches more than once. And Iron. I knew of him. He was an acquaintance of a friend from college. Or had been until his death three years earlier...  
  
I stood abruptly. Iron looked up, startled. I got the impression that Clique was just waiting patiently, gauging my reaction. "No. I don't know what kind of shit this is that you are trying to pull, but I don't want any part of it. You--" I pointed at Iron, "or whoever the real Iron is, is dead. He drove off a bridge in Boston three years ago. I'm leaving." I grabbed my bag.  
  
Clique's smile widened, finally reaching pale blue eyes. "You're right, of course. To the rest of your world, Iron did die in a car accident. But I have a hunch you fully realize that he has been present this long while. Surely your search has confirmed that. Sit back down, Aero, and I'll try to explain." The soft command in her voice was enough to halt me.  
  
I warily slid back down, dropping my bag on the floor, eyeing Iron. "Fine. Explain."  
  
"I assure that we are who we claim to be. But that is not the issue right now. You are."  
  
I narrowed my gaze on her silently.  
  
"As you surely have guessed by now, there is something out there. Something that you have not yet been able to grasp. Something wrong with the world. In the end, it is this unease that drives your search. Your need to find the ultimate answer. To explain what it is that will bring your heart peace. As all of us did, before our own respective moments, you know the question. It is the question that will free you, Aero. Do you know the question?" I closed my eyes. I knew the question. It was written across the backs of my eyelids, it was stamped so clearly in my mind that I knew there was no turning back. "What is the Matrix?" 


	3. Savior

I opened my eyes to meet Clique's. She turned to Iron, who had finished the plate of food. "Raine was right. He knew from the first time he saw her. Now do you believe?"  
  
It was out of my mouth before my mind could stop the words from coming. "I want to meet him."  
  
"And you shall, soon. He will be able to explain better than anyone what it is that you need to hear."  
  
Her phone rang, and she flipped it open. "Ares?"  
  
She listened for a second. Her lips thinned. "Shit."  
  
Clique hung up and shoved the phone in her pocket. Iron looked at her questioningly. "They know we're here. We've got to go." He pulled his gun out abruptly and leveled it at me. I stared at the barrel, stunned.  
  
"Forgive us, but you are a great danger to us right now. We will see you soon. If you are approached by men in suits, you must run! Your life depends on it!" They turned and sprinted with almost inhuman speed to the back door slipped into the kitchen.  
  
The other patrons of the dingy dining room glanced over my way, but I had the feeling that seeing guns drawn in this hellhole was not much out of the ordinary. I was struggling to catch my breath as the waiter came over and demanded payment for the food. I grabbed a few random francs from my bag, threw them on the table, and stumbled out into the cold night. I paused for a moment to get a feel for my surroundings. This was definitely not an area that a woman should be wandering alone at night. Catching sight of a main street up the alleyway from me, I jogged quickly toward it.  
  
Apparently not quickly enough. A man in a dirty denim vest jumped out right in my path. "Where're you going, gorgeous?" He slurred in guttural French. I slowly started to back up, and while doing so was beginning to work my bag off my shoulder. I had gone through self-defense training, several kickboxing classes, and even two years of Tai Kwon Do in college. I knew that I would be able to at least be able to incapacitate him long enough to make a run for it.  
  
Until he slid a 4-inch blade from a pocket as he advanced toward me.  
  
One more step back, turn the foot, fighting stance...Oh shit, here he comes. I swung my bag at his face with all my might, and had followed through with a clumsy-yet-effective roundhouse kick that brought him to the ground, when the other man grabbed me from behind. I hadn't seen or heard him. Yet he pinned me roughly against his chest. I brought my head back as hard as I could, and was gratified to hear a sickening crunch. I had gotten his nose. For good measure I stomped my heel down on his instep. He released me with a snarl of pain, and I sprinted with everything I had toward the street.  
  
When I burst out onto the slightly better lit sidewalk, I looked around wildly. Two prostitutes were slinking about the shadows of a building across the street. A man had pulled his car up to them.  
  
On my side of the street, I looked left and was shocked. A man in a dark, pristinely pressed suit, wearing sunglasses despite the fact that it was a gloomy, dark night, was walking purposefully toward me. I got a very bad feeling.  
  
Clique had warned me about suits. My intuition was screaming at me to run.  
  
I started backing away from him, and turned to run. I was still looking back when I slammed into a hard chest. I fell to the ground, and the man leapt over me, drawing a gun. He crouched right in front me, putting himself between me and the man in the suit. He fired from two guns and shouted for me to run. I jumped up and ran up the sidewalk, his cover fire still sounding. I reached an intersection and raced down another street. The man with the guns came around the corner nearly a split second after I did, which should not have been possible, considering that he would have had to cover a hundred feet in less than two seconds. He grabbed my arm and jerked me down another alleyway. I thought myself in great shape, especially for a run, but this guy was practically dragging me along. We turned two or three more times before he pulled me into an empty stairwell and slammed the door behind us.  
  
The man yanked two clips from under his long black leather trench coat and reloaded his guns. I couldn't see his face, but his posture didn't show any strain. He wasn't even winded. But I was dizzy. Very dizzy. Something was wrong. I swayed and ended up sitting on a stair, grasping a railing to keep myself upright. My left forearm hurt. I looked down at it, shocked to see my fingers wrapped around my bag covered with blood. I reached down to pull the bag away with my other hand, and was shocked to see a long, deep gash running half the length of my forearm, and bleeding.  
  
The man looked down at me for the first time. I couldn't make out his face in the dimly lit stairwell, but I was looking up a long way. "Shit." he whispered.  
  
He holstered his guns, yanked his belt from his waist and tourniqueted my arm at the elbow with it. "You didn't mention that you were hurt. His voice was pleasantly gravelly, and at the same time warm. I couldn't focus on his face, but I really wanted to see my savior.  
  
I forced my weak voice out. "Couldn't really find an appropriate time. Next time I'm running for my life, I'll try to remember to bring it up. "  
  
"Good girl, just stay conscious for me. " He lifted me under my shoulders and knees, and carried me up the stairs of the abandoned building.  
  
Or at least I assumed it was abandoned. That was until he brought me into a well-lit room with two green overstuffed armchairs, a beat-up coffee table, and a single black rotary-dial phone.  
  
He set me down in one of the chairs, then stripped his long coat off, and laid it out on the floor. He helped me down onto it, then grabbed a pillow from one of the chairs and propped my injured arm up on it. He flipped open his cell phone and called that Ares person.  
  
The last thing that I remember before completely blacking out was the beautiful, concerned face of my savior. 


	4. Raine

I woke up in a hospital bed. The image of the man's face seemed etched onto my retinas. His shaggy hair was as black as my own, and he had the most brilliant blue eyes. He was familiar somehow. I wasn't sure quite how so, but I had seen him or spoken with somewhere before.  
  
He was one of us. That much I knew. It didn't shock me at all that I referred to myself in the group, which included Clique and Iron. Must have been the pain meds.  
  
As I processed that, the pain began to register. My arm ached. I looked down at a row of neatly placed stitches running up the inside of my forearm. An IV was hooked up to my other arm, no doubt administering morphine in addition to the fluids, judging from the lack of sharp pain. I took a deep breath. And another. I had to find him. I needed to find him. There was something I had to ask him. I already knew who he was, even though my muddled brain wouldn't supply me with the name.  
  
I had to get out. Had to find a computer. The first thing I had to do was get the IV out. I managed to close off the drip, but getting the tape off my hand was another story. The fingers of my injured arm weren't working properly so it took a few minutes of working at it with my teeth before I could rip it off without ripping the cathoder out as well. I carefully eased it out of my hand, immediately applying pressure to the hemorrhage which formed using my chin.  
  
Holding my arm close to my side, I gingerly swung my feet onto the floor. I still wore my stockings over my fishnets, and my skirt and partially ruined T-shirt as well. At least they hadn't put me in one of those gowns. I must have been in an ER recovery room. They would have made me change into a gown if I would have had to stay too long. I glanced at the clock above the door. It was only 11:00.  
  
As I was preparing to go for the door, I was stunned to hear a cell phone ring in my back pocket. I don't own a cell phone. I reached back with my good arm and yanked it out.  
  
"Hello?" I knew somehow to answer it in English.  
  
"Glad to see you're alive." That soft, gravelly voice.  
  
"Glad to be alive."  
  
"Do you know who I am?"  
  
I smiled. "Jesus Christ?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"I've been searching for you for a long time."  
  
"I know. Not as long as I have been searching for you, though. But there will be time for talk later. You are in danger now. They know we are searching for you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Explanations must wait. Right now, I have but one question for you. Do you want your answer?"  
  
I didn't hesitate. He didn't have to explain what answer. "Yes."  
  
"Then realize that the world will never be the same for you. The Matrix is everywhere, and it is everything. It is an elaborate construct, to which you still belong. To learn the truth, to truly understand, you must see it for what it is. With your own eyes. You will wake up, and open your eyes for the first time. To truly see. Is your answer still yes?"  
  
"It is."  
  
"Then leave this hospital. Have a cab take you to 45 Rue Jeanne. Attract as little attention as possible. I will see you there."  
  
I grabbed my boots, my bag, and left. Sneaking out of the hospital was not difficult. Nor was hailing a cab. The hard part was forcing the excited butterflies in my stomach down during the long cab ride. The building we arrived at was the same one that he had taken me to last night. I sat in the cab for a moment, staring at the dilapidated structure, before the impatient cabby prompted me to get out. I overpaid him, and stepped out onto the curb.  
  
The door swung open at my touch, and I found myself looking up the dusty stairwell at Clique.  
  
"You've made the right choice. Come with me, and I'll take you to him."  
  
I followed her up the stairs, keeping my arm straight down at my side. We passed three empty doorways, took a right, and came to a closed door. Clique turned to me again.  
  
"You can trust him. We all do, but you will have realize that on your own. Go into this room with an open mind."  
  
I looked into her eyes. They were calm, yet strangely bright. God, I hoped I wasn't making a mistake. Before I could second guess myself, she opened the door for me. I stepped into the room with the two chairs. Next to the phone on the coffee table now sat a glass of water.  
  
He was standing behind a chair, waiting for me. I think I took him by surprise when I walked right up to him. I had to look up to meet his eyes, even in my boots. He glanced down at my arm. I didn't flip it over for inspection, just held it pinned to my side. There wasn't much else I could do. The pain had multiplied tenfold since the morphine was wearing off, but damned if I'd show it.  
  
He smiled, and I got the distinct impression that he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Welcome, Aero. As you already know, I am Raine." He gestured toward one of the chairs. "Would you care to sit?"  
  
I shook my head. "What did you mean earlier?"  
  
Again, no explanation between us was necessary. "You may have been searching for me for these past several years, but I have been looking for you since..." His lips quirked. "For a long time. You are destined to join us in our war. You are the final soldier we need. The Matrix still has you, but if you choose, you can free yourself." He moved around the chair slowly.  
  
Raine was a tall man, perhaps a little older than myself. He was strong of build, but without the bulky muscling Iron displayed. His was the long, lean strength that so easily can be underestimated. That more than anything kept me wary. He once again wore his leather coat.  
  
What was he talking about? "Soldier? What--what do you mean, free myself?"  
  
"I'm afraid you won't understand yet. I give you one last choice." He reached into a pocket and removed two small pills, which he placed in his palms.  
  
"If you take the red pill, we will leave you as you are. You will be free to live your life without the burden of remembering what has passed this day. You're life will return to normal, and that hollow feeling will drive you until the end of your days. Take the blue pill, and find the answer to your question, however unpleasant it may be. The journey will be difficult, but you will not be alone. It is your decision. There is no turning back."  
  
I met his eyes. I've found that few people can meet mine for long. Something about the strange pale green color of my irises making people uncomfortable. Raine's gaze, however, didn't waver. "That's no decision."  
  
"Everything is a decision."  
  
"You already know my answer." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"Yes." I could no longer meet his piercing eyes.  
  
I swallowed the red pill. 


	5. Unplugged

The next thing I remember is waking up aboard the ship. I have no recollection of the pod fields, of the Odyssey picking me up from the waste dump, or my first days in the real world. I know only what I was told. I remember seeing the plugs in my arm and chest for the first time, then the sense of alarm when I felt my bald head, then the large outlet at the base of my skull. I only vaguely recollect learning to speak again, to force my aching muscles to hold a spoon, to stand. And I remember his face. But I remember little else of my early days.  
  
My first meeting with the entire crew is perhaps the first completely clear memory. I was on the main deck, staring at the back of a man wearing a ratty, poorly patched shirt and rough gray pants. He didn't have a plug in the back of his head.  
  
He heard me behind him and turned. I had to revise my initial assessment. He was not a man, but a boy, maybe in his late teens. His face lit up in a huge grin when he saw me. "Hey, you speak English, right? I mean, they told me you were French in the Matrix, but I mean, I'm assuming you speak English, because they sent Clique in to get you and all and she doesn't speak anything else. Won't let us upload a language program for her. She was an American while she was plugged in. That must explain it. We all speak English in Zion, pretty much, I mean, there are a few of the gutter rats and such that speak something else, but for the most part--" He took a breath and grinned sheepishly. "So you do speak English, right?"  
  
"Yeah." I couldn't help but smile. He seemed like a nice kid.  
  
"Good. My name is Com. I bet you're wondering why you have those," he pointed at one of the jacks that were visible in my arm, "and I don't." He pulled up his own sleeve to show smooth skin.  
  
"Bear and I are the only ones onboard the Odyssey that don't have the plugs. We weren't born in the Matrix like the rest of you guys. Which means we can't go in, so we're the operators for you when you go back in. My name doesn't mean comrad or commando or command or communications or anything fun like that. Its just what my mom named me. No cool back story or anything, just plain Com."  
  
"What? I don't-"  
  
"Oh, man. I'm sorry! I shouldn't be saying this. Raine hasn't talked to you yet. Well, he has, you just were sort of out of it when he did. I mean, you've been out for almost a month now--" He cut off at my alarmed expression. "Shit, I'm really sorry. I need to get Raine."  
  
Com disappeared through a metal submarine-type door. It gave me the opportunity to look around the chamber. It looked like the inside of a submarine. Only bigger. Wiring and welding everywhere. In the center of the room stood six metal chairs and a large terminal with several monitors. I took a few steps toward the nearest chair. It looked like something from a bad dental torture movie.  
  
I ran my fingers over the headrest. There was a spike of some type hanging from its wire on the back of the chair. I gingerly lifted it. It was some seriously heavy hardware. The port would have to be equipped to take a huge surge of power, if the size of the prong was any indication of conduction.  
  
Instinct crashed through me. I touched the node on the back of my head.  
  
"It's how we get back in."  
  
I spun, and faced the voice. It was Raine. He was leaning against the frame of the portal Com had left through.  
  
He looked different! Not as dangerous, perhaps. He wore the same rags that Com and I wore. More human, I had thought at the time. His eyes were the same blue, his hair a bit shorter than I remembered, but the beauty of his face was the same.  
  
Raine pushed off from the doorframe and entered the room. Iron, Clique, Com, two women and a men entered the room behind him. Everyone but Iron had a welcoming look on their face.  
  
Raine introduced everyone. "You've already met Com I see. And this our other Zion-born, Bear." He indicated the first woman. "She is our main mechanic, and our sometimes-operator."  
  
She was probably about twenty-five or so. Her mousy brown hair was tied in a ponytail, and her skinny frame didn't wear her clothes well. She grinned, displaying a huge gap between her front teeth I liked her immediately.  
  
Raine moved on to the man. He was of medium height, in his middle to late twenties, with brown hair and brown eyes. He looked to be of Asian decent, and his face was not unpleasant. "Aero, this is Heiro." Heiro smiled and we shook hands.  
  
Heiro stood back, and Raine introduced the other woman. She was tall, with medium-length white-blonde hair, and big blue eyes. She was beautiful. She looked me up and down in a way that set my teeth on edge. Raine's expression didn't change, but I could tell he felt the waves of cold coming off the other woman. "This is Glaze." I extended my hand and waited for a moment. She didn't immediately take it, but when she saw that I wouldn't feel foolish for holding my hand out, she took it reluctantly.  
  
"Welcome."  
  
I certainly didn't feel it from her. Not then.  
  
Isn't it strange how life can work out? Glaze turned out to be one of my best friends.  
  
Everyone but Raine, Heiro and Com left the room.  
  
"So you want to know what the Matrix really is? I'll show you." Raine smiled and motioned for me to sit in one of the metal chairs as he did the same. Com moved to the terminal, and Heiro strapped my feet and forehead with some type of restraint. I looked up at him, alarmed.  
  
Heiro patted my shoulder and said in his an Australian accent, "No worries, love. This'll give ya a bit of a jolt."  
  
I felt a sudden pain in the back of my head, then the world turned white. Raine was standing in front of me.  
  
He proceeded to answer the question. 


End file.
